Here with me
by The HP and Twilight lover
Summary: Story set from the moment Remus hears of the whole his-friends-have-been-killed-and-his-love-is-arrested-for-murder thingy... What's on his mind? 'I can't breathe until you're resting here with me' Obviously another RLSB - don't like, don't read! Songfic


Ok, so I expect my readers to be proud of me. I finished and published a RLSB-fic for you, when - yesterday or the day before that, right? And today I got this brand new idea put into my head by my evil subconscious, wanting me to develope depression, I'm sure! Anyhow, I just needed to write things off of my head this afternoon, and this is the result! :D Hope you do enjoy it, or... well, this isn't anything like my other Remus/Sirius-fics, basicly being the only sad fanfiction I've ever written. You've been warned! I really don't expect people to enjoy this, just... It'd be nice if you kinda liked it, though! Give it a try, 'k?

By the way, this is a songfic written while I listened to the song "Here with me" by Dido. It's such a sad song to me! Looking it up on Youtube or spotify or whatever and listening to the song while reading is highly recommended!

Disclaimer: - I'm awfully tired of doing this thing, really. It's a painful reminder every time that these characters aren't legally mine... :'( And this time, the song isn't mine either! *Winces in despair*

* * *

**Here with me**

_I didn't hear you leave  
I wonder how am I still here  
And I don't want to move a thing  
It might change my memory_

Remus Lupin was sitting stone dead at his side of the ragged bed that he'd shared with his great love(r) since they'd both graduated seventh year at Hogwarts three years ago. He had one of his hands supporting his forehead as he wasn't even close to being able to sit up straight, and the other laying across his lap lifelessly, as if it wasn't really a part of his body. The brand new newspaper had long since slid out of his weak grasp, as his entire body had gone numb and he could no longer control it.

_Three years_. They had been living together, loving each other – or so he'd thought – for three entire years. Yet he hadn't noticed anything. He hadn't had a clue, hadn't suspected a thing; hadn't been prepared for this at all. Perhaps he'd been too naïve, never guessing or even wanting to consider the possibility of his love being the awful traitor. Perhaps he'd been manipulated all the time; his lover charming his brains out without him even realizing it. He'd thought he was always on his guard. Oh, had he been wrong!

He'd never thought his partner of being capable of this sort of betrayal. Now he was astonished beyond comprehension. He just couldn't see how he could have possibly been missing out on everything; he should've seen this coming; he should at least have seen some signs indicating that things would turn out like this. Though he doubted he would've done much about his suspicions, had he had any, he just couldn't comprehend how he could've had absolutely no idea of this. How could he have been this blind?

Yesterday had been exactly like any other day at this time. He had been mourning the fact that they both knew; James suspected him of being the traitor. Remus could see how Potter reasoned, only wanting to protect his family; his lovely wife and one-year-old son. It had been the natural thing of him to do to seek the simplest of answers: after all, Remus was a werewolf, and most of those creatures were prone to join the dark side in the war, sooner or later, due to being rejected from the wizarding society.

Sirius had been comforting him, as usual. And Merlin, was he good at comforting Remus! Maybe this had been what had kept the lycanthrope from ever considering his lover of being the traitor; the black-haired man had been so sure of Remus' innocence himself – now, of course he had! –; protecting him, comforting him and making him feel good about himself again in the most extraordinarily and inventive sort of ways. Sirius had been his solid cliff, not caring more for anything other than Remus' well being. Or so he'd thought.

Remus hadn't even heard his love leave yesterday night. He'd been too tired after Sirius had completed his full session of _supporting_ him. He must have fallen asleep in the other man's arms, not waking up as he'd snuck away to the Potter's house. This he had already blamed and cursed himself for several times. If he had only wakened up…

Now, the Daily Prophet had him informed, three of his very best of friends were dead. The only one remaining alive had already been taken into custody, being charged with the murder and treason of them – most likely to be sentenced a lifetime at Azkaban for his terrible crime.

Remus' eyes remained dead and his body remained completely still even at this thought. The bastard deserved it. Remus would never forgive himself for not discovering what Sirius was up to earlier; he would never accept it. This, however, he would eventually learn to accept. This was the right thing to be done, and he knew it.

But right now, deep inside of him, he felt more sorrow than betrayal. He felt hatred and disgust with the man he'd shared a flat with – shared his heart with – for years. But still, he couldn't help but miss Sirius. He mourned the death of his very close friends, of course. He worried about Harry Potter – the survivor's – future, yes. He was heartbroken because of his lover's betrayal, and still he was grieving the loss of him.

He wanted him there to comfort him once more. He needed Sirius' body next to his. It was this remorse that finally shone through his eyes; made him gasp in terror and whimper, fighting against his tears.

He didn't even know what he was still doing here. He had woken at least an hour ago, for sure. He'd immediately noticed Sirius' absence, but hadn't given it much thought before he'd retrieved the Prophet wearing nothing but his morning robe. Now, the major shock the front page article had caused him was starting to wear off, replaced with other feelings. All bad.

But he feared for nothing more than to lose his memories of the good Sirius he'd thought to have known. He was as unwilling to move himself as he was to move anything else in the house. He knew this wasn't reasonable or good in any way, but, as the masochist that he was, he wasn't going – or even willing – to do something about it.

Damn it. He'd sworn, uncountable times, that he'd love Sirius to death. Apparently this wasn't going to change, regardless of what the black-haired man did, or had done. This would be sure to wear him out. Especially as he was tormented with the knowledge that he'd never see Sirius Black again in his life.

--  
_Oh I am what I am  
I do what I want  
But I can't hide_

_And I won't go_  
_I won't sleep_  
_I can't breathe_  
_Until you're resting here with me_

_And I won't leave  
I can't hide  
I cannot be  
Until you're resting here with me _

Remus wouldn't go anywhere. He simply would not leave the house, even weeks after he'd gotten those terrible news.

No one had come to visit him or talk to him yet. Either they didn't know that he was still here, or they had other things on their minds right now, he figured. He didn't care either way. He didn't want to be pitied by anyone. He didn't want anyone to see his pain, and he doubted he was anywhere strong enough to pull up a mask to hide even parts of it. So he was utterly grateful that no one ever came along; that his loneliness wasn't interrupted while his misery never would be.

It had been full moon last night, which had made him dwell upon melancholy and memories even more than he'd already done. Yet, he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave the house as the transformation would begin. He'd stayed indoors, so the house was now rather trashed, with claw marks on the tapestry and furniture wrecked into pieces. This bothered him, but not enough to ever consider leaving. He couldn't help himself, couldn't change his mind or change who he was. This was his decision, and he just wouldn't do it, no matter how much it tore him apart to be here, constantly reminded of what was versus what had been. He wasn't ready to move on; to put this behind.

He could hardly stand it, though. He didn't feel alive anymore. He hardly ever moved in the house, almost always just laying still in his – their – bed, the full moon obviously an exception. Remorse filled him up anytime he took a breath; he didn't sleep and had major trouble eating. He didn't know what to do, what to want, what to aim for in these times. He knew nothing other than how he missed Sirius to death, and how he wouldn't ever get some peace of mind until Sirius would be laying there with him.

--  
_I don't want to call my friends  
For they might wake me from this dream  
And I can't leave this bed  
Risk forgetting all that's been_

He didn't want to talk to anyone; too sure that he would not be able to handle it. He just wanted to travel back in time through his memories and dream away at a time that had once been. His seconds of happiness was sure to shatter anyway the moment that his body would react on what was going on inside his head, and he'd be reminded that this was merely a memory from his past or a dream of another future.

He was very well aware that he was torturing himself. The tears that tended to spill up every once in a while, combined with the throbbing ache in his heart gave it away. But he couldn't _not_ think about it; about Sirius; what he'd been like then and what was probable of him now. He gladly took the pain; welcomed the torment as this was the insurance that he hadn't forgotten a thing yet.

--  
_Oh I am what I am  
I do what I want  
But I can't hide_

_And I won't go_  
_I won't sleep_  
_I can't breathe_  
_Until you're resting here with me_

_I won't leave_  
_I can't hide_  
_I cannot be_  
_Until you're resting here_

The prisoner gazed out of his one barred window at the glowing full moon, remorse written all over his face.

Sirius had never looked as bad as he did right now: his hair longer than it'd ever been before, actually longer and much too shabby than he'd prefer; the black, usually mild waves being wind up into messy, dirty stripes. His clothes were ragged and his face dirty, worn with misery and unavoidable fear, and tired to a point where said fear didn't stand out as much as it ought to anymore.

He hadn't looked this bad even as he had been beaten by his mother and run away for good; because despite the agony he'd thought to have had within himself at that time, he'd still had his friends to turn to and had Remus comforting him pretty much likewise to what he'd done the lycanthrope those awful mornings after full moons.

This was worse, by far. Because he had no one here to comfort him, and even if he'd been able to magically transfer Remus over here, he knew that the hazel-eyed, light-brown-haired man of his wouldn't feel like comforting him at all. Because he thought Sirius to be the traitor.

He understood that even Remus must be thinking that after what had happened, with all rights considering how many times Black had screwed things up in his life. He was who he was, after all, but he was no such thing as a traitor – only taking the punishment for one other; a spineless, disgusting traitor of a rat that never belonged in Gryffindore and should suffer and be killed much more brutally than the media thought him to have been already. Merlin, his hatred towards Pettigrew and his craving for revenge were two of the things that kept him sane these days, having dementors all around at all times.

The other thing, the one that outdid the two by huge margins, was of course the mere thought of Remus. He used to crawl into the deepest, darkest corner of his cell at this goddamned place, and shift into Padfoot to be able to think about those happy, peaceful, wonderful moments he had spent with his love without being too affected by the dementors. He was unbelievably happy to be an animagus; given that dogs didn't usually feel feelings as complex as human one's, he was despaired more misery from the monsters that were there to guard him. He couldn't hide from them, but he could protect himself by some means, at the very least.

The grief with what he handled his yearnings for Remus made him feel worse than he'd felt ever before in his life. He was in Azkaban; he was bound to get tortured, after all. But the dementors didn't get as much of him as his own memories did. He hardly felt alive anymore; deprived of sleep, half deprived of water and nutrition – and deprived of his heart, as he'd handed it to his sweet Moony to watch out for. The latter was obviously the toughest thing to handle; the thing that made the torture of being stuck here, unable to leave, unbearable.

He would get out of here, though, at some point. He would see Remus' beautiful face again, he was determined. He just didn't know how and when he would manage.

--  
_I won't go  
And I won't sleep  
And I can't breathe  
Until you're resting here with me_

_And I won't leave_  
_I can't hide_  
_I cannot be_  
_Until you're resting here with me_

_Oh I am what I am_  
_I do what I want_  
_But I can't hide_

Remus just didn't get any better. He never went out, since he had his wand and knowledge with him and could therefore get anything he needed without having to abandon the bed, where his memories of Sirius where at their best, strongest.

This went on for years. For over a decade, actually. He hardly ever spoke to anyone. He was utterly miserable, not wanting to move on, though completely without any hopes of ever seeing his great love again.

He had considered suicide, though he knew that Sirius wouldn't have liked it – as much a traitor as he was, he couldn't possibly be wishing the life out of Remus, could he? – and he wasn't used with running away from his problems. He was used to handling them on his own, with James and Sirius uncovering his dark secret and then insisting on not leaving him to go through it alone being the one and only exception.

The words about Sirius' escape from Azkaban shook his world entirely as they was printed and reached the public all of a sudden; an efficient spanner in the lycanthrope's eventless suffering – the wake-up call he'd long since needed.

He could hardly believe it when he saw the dramatic headline of the Prophet that he still received but seldom read. All he could do for a good fifteen minutes was to gasp and simply stare at the front page, where a picture of a torn, weary, yet maddened Sirius was staring up at him, his grey eyes unreadable even to him.

He had a great amount of emotions flooding within him, and needed to swallow down hard a good couple of times before being able to grab the paper and leaf through the pages with fumbling fingers.

He managed to read the entire article through without tearing up, but that was just about it. His emotions – a hundred of them bad and one good; the slight feeling of a mixture between relief and hope right in the middle of denial – made him terribly confused and he didn't know what he ought to do. He hadn't really been waiting for this moment, having no hope of ever experiencing it, so it wasn't like he was prepared and had everything planned just in case it would in fact happen.

Would Sirius come for him? This was his hope and great fear at the same time. Because if he would, he'd be sure to get caught and locked up again in next to no time. Remus took it for granted, that the Ministry would surely supervise all magic activity in Remus' – their – flat from now on, if they wasn't already. And surely, they would also supervise him in other ways; probably keep a watch outside the place for _any_ activity. Hopefully, Sirius would acknowledge this too.

Later the day that he got the news, he also got a surprise visit by Albus Dumbledore, asking him rather urgently if he'd like to fill the post as Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts right now as the summer would come to its end. This, of course, came very suddenly, and Remus was honestly shocked that Dumbledore would like to have not only a werewolf, but also the only remaining person that the wanted murderer Sirius Black had had a very close relationship with, teaching at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore seemed to know what he was thinking, and explained to him that he was perfectly qualified, having taken studies to become a teacher during those happy years of his youth that seemed to be so very far away from him now; almost as if they were remnants from another person's previous life. Lupin really shouldn't have been as astounded as he was. The old, silver-haired wizard had always been one never to look down on him because of his lycanthropy. He explained that he expected Remus to be as excellent a teacher as he'd been a student, and couldn't think of anyone more suitable of filling the post.

Remus felt bad for him because of that last thing, really. Though he didn't hesitate much before he accepted the offer. He simply could not resist it, feeling somewhat bad of being in the same belief as pretty much the rest of the wizarding world; thinking that Sirius was heading for Hogwarts in purpose of killing Harry Potter in favor of the Dark Lord. What else would he be bound to believe, as it was obviously clear that the wanted wizard did not intend to return home?

He couldn't leave Harry unguarded, feeling responsible for the boy as he had no actual adult caretaker in the wizarding world, seeing as it was Sirius himself that was his godfather. Poor boy. Of course, Remus was being quite unreasonable in his process of thought. No one was unguarded at Hogwarts.

But this was only one weak reason why the lycanthrope felt attracted to the idea of being at Hogwarts. He simply wanted to see Harry as well, in honesty being curious of how he'd turned out since last time Remus had seen him. It had been such a long time since! Who knew what his life was like? It would feel very strange seeing him, for sure, but Lupin was used with dealing with strange things. He just fared that the reminder of James and Lily would be all too painful on his part, but then on the other hand, pain was something he was thoroughly used with as well – and it would be worth it, having this tiny last part of his past remaining for him to see.

Though he really couldn't deny to himself, that the main reason he wanted to go to Hogwarts was – once again – all about Sirius. Of course, he wanted to see whether the black-haired man would be able to get within Hogwarts grounds once again. Remus knew that if he managed, it would be a really, really bad thing, and he'd probably never want to leave Harry out of sight, though he just couldn't bring himself to pray for the opposite thing to happen.

He couldn't possibly deny it to himself, as both his mind and his body yearned for it so terribly that it hurt, no matter how cold-hearted, cold-blooded a Black he might be: Remus was desperate to see his love again.

--  
_And I won't go  
I won't sleep  
And I can't breathe  
Until you're resting here with me_

_I won't leave_  
_I can't hide_  
_I cannot be_  
_Until you're resting here_

_And I won't go_  
_And I won't sleep_  
_And I can't breathe_  
_Until you're resting here with me_

_I won't leave_  
_I can't hide_  
_I cannot be_  
_Until you're resting here with me…_

* * *

Review, pretty please! If not because you liked the reading, than at least you could always tell me that I have good taste in music :)


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